


Sick

by lokit5083



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Illness, M/M, ferre's here too but?? its so minor hes not worth tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8284211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokit5083/pseuds/lokit5083
Summary: Enjolras is sick and he's forced to let Grantaire take care of him.





	

     “I'm _fine_.”

     “Oh my _God_ , Enjolras,” Combeferre sighed, “I know I'm not, like, a _real_ doctor, yet, but with the amount of times you've thrown up lately, I'm gonna go ahead and say you're definitely not _fine_.”

     Maybe he had a point. Enjolras was sick, as much as he would pretend he wasn't. He’d gotten a virus, or food poisoning, or _something_ , and he felt awful. But he could work through that. He could do what he had to. If Combeferre would _let_ him.

     “But I can _work_. I can go to class, and,” he was cut off by a glare from Combeferre, which made him sigh, “ _okay_ , but can I at least have my laptop?”

     Combeferre had taken it, saying that getting absorbed in something wasn't going to help him feel better. “No. It’s coming with me, and you are not. You're gonna stay home, drink some water, and get some rest. You don't even get to get dressed today. Grantaire should be here, so you won't be alone, and he’s going to make sure you do what I say.”

     Enjolras let out a soft groan, to which Combeferre smiled. “Have fun,” he said before leaving the apartment, the door closing behind him, leaving only silence.

     Now alone, Enjolras leaned his head against the back of the couch he sat on. He wasn’t much one for _relaxation_. He preferred times when he had something to focus on. Like his _laptop_. He could have been working on school work or organizing a meeting or _something_ , but instead he would just have to sit here. At least Combeferre had left him with his books, so at the very least he could _read_. And, in the absence of his work, it was good to know he wouldn’t be alone. He didn’t _mind_ being alone, but he by far preferred time with a friend. Or boyfriend.

     Grantaire would be there. _Grantaire_. Whom he’d fought with and didn’t particularly want to see at the moment. Sickness had made Enjolras irritable, and he’d lashed out. He wasn’t really one to hold a grudge, but he liked to admit defeat even less, and he was sure the way he felt would entice him to. He wasn’t one to be weak against illness, but if bad feelings weren’t _necessary_ , he wouldn’t force them. It would be less turmoil for him, which meant less to upset his stomach more than it already was. It would be a sacrifice for the greater good.

     A minute passed before he was jarred from his thoughts by the opening of a door. He turned his head to face the direction of the sound, and he saw the subject of his thoughts stepping from the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Grantaire shuffled into the room, still in his pajamas, hair sleep-mussed. It was a good look on him. He still looked half asleep, but he lit up when he noticed Enjolras. At least he didn't seem mad anymore, and Enjolras was grateful. If Grantaire wasn't mad, he wouldn't be, either. And if Grantaire wasn’t mentioning it, which he hoped he wasn’t going to, neither would he.

     “Morning,” said Grantaire, smiling tiredly as he stepped to the couch and flopped down beside Enjolras, fight seemingly forgotten, “How are we feeling today?”

     “Like I could be sick at any moment,” replied Enjolras, smiling weakly at the other. He was _tired_ , too. He hadn't slept well the night before, and now he was paying for it. It turned out trying to sleep on the bathroom floor, while helpful when he felt like he was going to be sick, wasn't the most helpful for his sleep.

     Grantaire let out a breath, putting an arm around Enjolras’ shoulder and kissing his forehead. “You want some tea?”

     Enjolras let his eyes flutter closed as Grantaire kissed him, exhaling softly as well. Enjolras had never had any interest in a relationship before Grantaire, and he still found himself lacking attraction to any others. He had always been perfectly happy on his own, content in spending time in company of his friends. He’d never wanted or needed a relationship, and he still wouldn't say he _needed_ one. It was pleasant, but Enjolras had a feeling he wouldn't be likely to have another, should he and Grantaire separate. No, even now he would still say he lacked interest in a relationship. Grantaire was an exception to the rule. He had always been one to almost look down on romantic relationships, seeing them as distracting and superfluous. But he and Grantaire had always built off of each other, even just in battling each other’s statements, and that only managed to increase, now. They brought out the better traits in each other. Enjolras was a man who hardly noticed the transition from winter to spring, but somehow he’d found joy in this cynic.

     Enjolras did not _need_ Grantaire, but he sure as hell was nice to have.

     “Yeah,” Enjolras sighed, “that sounds nice. Thank you.”

     Grantaire pressed another soft kiss to his forehead in reply before he stood and made his way into the kitchen.

     Once he was out of view, Enjolras rolled his head to once again face the ceiling, his eyes drifting closed as he listened to the sounds now coming from the kitchen. The opening and closing of a cupboard door as a mug was grabbed, the sudden flow of water from the sink, and the just as sudden stop, and the soft clanging as the kettle was placed on the stove. Focusing on the sounds gave Enjolras some distance from the nausea turning in his stomach. He was even able to fall into a light doze, but that lasted only a couple of minutes before the kettle began to whistle. This sound, high and shrill, stabbed itself into the pleasant haze he had entered.

     Enjolras opened his eyes, overcome by the wave of nausea that welcomed him into consciousness. The sound stopped, after a moment, being replaced instead by the soft sound of Grantaire humming from the other room as he poured the water. It was pleasant and calming, a soft sound that contrasted greatly from the one that had woken him.

     The problem, however, was that while the sounds had calmed, Enjolras’ stomach hadn't. To have been so suddenly jerked into consciousness seemed to not have helped, as now the nausea twisting and turning within him grew. He tried to ignore it, push it down and wait it out, but he found it a futile effort.

     He stood and quickly made his way to the bathroom. Grantaire, having heard the movement, looked into the living room from the kitchen doorway, swearing softly when he noticed Enjolras gone. He rushed down the hall, to the bathroom, stopping outside of the closed door.

     “Enjolras?”

     His only reply was a retching, muffled by the door. Grantaire sighed and opened it, stepping inside and crouching beside the other. He was silent, rubbing Enjolras’ back with one hand and making sure no stray strands of hair got in his face with the other.

     After another horrible moment, Enjolras’ body relaxed, and heaving was replaced with heavy breathing. He stood, then, slowly, as he moved to the sink to clean his mouth. Grantaire watched him from his crouched position, not wanting to get up until he was certain Enjolras wouldn't be sick again.

     With a groan, Enjolras straightened, running a hand through his hair. He looked horrible, eliciting a sigh from Grantaire. The latter began to stand, but he stopped as the former lowered himself to the floor again, sitting in front of the sink. Grantaire looked at him, pale and tired, and he moved to sit next to the other.

     Enjolras sighed, leaning his head against Grantaire’s shoulder, earning himself a kiss on the head and an arm around his shoulders.

     “You alright, cariño?” Grantaire asked, rubbing the other’s arm.

     Enjolras answered with only a soft groan as he turned his head to press his face into Grantaire’s shoulder. The simple, innocent action made Grantaire smile and let out a soft huff of a laugh. In response to this, Enjolras let out a breath, pulling away slightly so he could move, curling himself into Grantaire’s lap.

     “Wouldn't you rather go to bed?” Grantaire asked, raising an eyebrow.

     Enjolras shook his head, pressing his face into Grantaire’s neck as he wrapped his arms around the other. The exhaustion of missing out on sleep and getting sick had caught up to him, and he finally just wanted to _sleep_. He didn't care if it was on the bathroom floor again, because this time he had _Grantaire_ , warm and solid beneath him. It was much better than the hard tile.

     “You okay?” Enjolras asked, voice already heavy, affected by the need for sleep.

     “Yeah, just—” Grantaire started, moving them so he was leaning against a wall, “—there. Better.”

     Enjolras let out a soft hum, and Grantaire wrapped his arms around him, leaning his head back.

     They were still like that, both asleep, when Combeferre found them after his class.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @enjamras  
> cariño = sweetie, dear, etc.


End file.
